siss booom explosions, et cetera
Who: atrumcanis & thelittlestbub
When: Monday evening into the night! all the better for enjoying fireworks!
Where: a tall building! all the better for seeing fireworks from!
Summary: A fireworks competition! Ooh and aah and bang and crackling and all that!
Warnings: fireworks and Canadian swill "beer" and showoffs.
Sirius had tracked down the swilly beer that this Jubilee had requested. Molsons, were they? They certainly tasted of moles--the sons of moles, maybe, stewed in their own disgusting juices. It was no fire whiskey, certainly, but it was better than absolutely nothing.
He took another swig of it and pulled a face. The accident of broadcasting the firework mishap was irritating, sure, but nothing that he couldn't get out of. Again. It was business as usual, evading trouble. The thought of James--stupid James, stupid bloody James--was a small comfort, but not very much of one. After all, there was no use in thinking of the stupid tit if he wasn't around to be of any use.
He kicked the heel of his boot against the concrete of the roof, already bored again. Another sip of the awful stuff, and he yawned, scratching the corner of his mouth. The dusk of evening was quickly fading into night. The buggery monsters, and fireworks. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
When: Monday evening into the night! all the better for enjoying fireworks!
Where: a tall building! all the better for seeing fireworks from!
Summary: A fireworks competition! Ooh and aah and bang and crackling and all that!
Warnings: fireworks and Canadian swill "beer" and showoffs.
Sirius had tracked down the swilly beer that this Jubilee had requested. Molsons, were they? They certainly tasted of moles--the sons of moles, maybe, stewed in their own disgusting juices. It was no fire whiskey, certainly, but it was better than absolutely nothing.
He took another swig of it and pulled a face. The accident of broadcasting the firework mishap was irritating, sure, but nothing that he couldn't get out of. Again. It was business as usual, evading trouble. The thought of James--stupid James, stupid bloody James--was a small comfort, but not very much of one. After all, there was no use in thinking of the stupid tit if he wasn't around to be of any use.
He kicked the heel of his boot against the concrete of the roof, already bored again. Another sip of the awful stuff, and he yawned, scratching the corner of his mouth. The dusk of evening was quickly fading into night. The buggery monsters, and fireworks. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.